


wreck this clown squad

by mintpearlvoice



Series: clown meme scream team [1]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death... OR IS IT??? (DUN DUN DUN), Gen, M/M, Show Business, Social Media, everyone is driven by an inexplicable need to punch all clowns, implied pre-relationship subtext, media fic, trauma plus amnesia equals a lot of entertainers getting decked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-10-29 05:51:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20791679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintpearlvoice/pseuds/mintpearlvoice
Summary: The latest viral video trend of 2016: mild-mannered middle-aged minor celebrities going suddenly berserk on clowns.Seeing a comedian deck his opening act? It's the most fascinating public disaster since Lindsay Lohan.Or: Everyone is back in Derry before Mike planned, because they're all just as confused as the clowns.





	1. rumors that mrs. marsh pushed a clown out of a window have been greatly exaggerated

TO: allemployees@beverlyfashions

FROM: marsh@beverlyfashions

SUBJECT: ATTN STAFF re: today’s events

Afternoon, all.

I’m sure by now most of you have probably heard about what transpired at this morning’s vaudeville-themed photo shoot, and that even those of you who were on vacation today have seen the video now known as “Let’s Get This Clown #5,” which was tweeted by a bystander and then collated by Buzzfeed along with other similar occurrences, such as “Comedian Decks Opening Act,” “Convention Goer Shoved into Richard Bachmann Display” and “Local Architect Goes TF Off.”

It is with a heavy heart that I inform you that the redheaded woman in said video is, in fact, yours truly. I have no idea why I reacted in this manner, and can only dimly recollect the event in question. What I do know is this: while the models for our vintage-inspired new collection were getting their makeup done, the photographer called in the additional talent he had hired to portray background vaudeville perfomers to the shoot’s “leading ladies.”

I remember being introduced to the juggler- and then, about five minutes later, being wrestled to the ground by two lighting technicians and an intern. What I am certain of is that, despite what you may have heard, I did not attempt to “push a clown out a window,” I pushed him against a window, which I had known previously to be closed. Additionally, the lawyer of Tommy Ross, also known by his stage name, Jolly Pogo, has been unable to conclusively prove that the bite marks on Ross’s face and neck match my dental records. And, while the other wounds on his body are allegedly my responsibility, it’s clear that my fingernails are too neatly filed to have inflicted such deep cuts. Anything you hear to the contrary will surely be proved false in court.

I believe that I entered a brief fugue state as the result of my exhausting schedule during New York Fashion Week, during which I subsisted only on coffee and Luna bars, and as such experienced a momentary break with reality, the exact nature of which has yet to be ascertained. As such, I have decided to take a similarly brief leave of absence, during which I plan to return to my boring, unmemorable New England hometown and do absolutely nothing. Please direct all inquiries about my mental health and/or whereabouts to my husband, in whose very capable hands I feel privileged to leave the company as a whole.

Regards,

Beverly Marsh


	2. literary agents don't get paid enough

“Bill. Jesus Christ, Bill. Right when I’m in negotiations with fucking Penguin for your next two-book deal? What the hell were you thinking?”

Bill lit another cigarette. “I’m guessing this means you’ve seen the video.”

“I’ve seen the video, Penguin has seen the video, hell, actual penguins in the Antarctic have probably seen the video! Your temporary insanity, or whatever it was, is in a goddamn Buzzfeed listicle.”

Susan had been Bill’s agent for the last decade or so. Long Island born and raised, with an accent to match, she brought a succession of unnervingly yappy dogs to the office, left plum lipstick smears on her coffee mugs (pronounced caw-fee) and was always genuinely delighted when Bill wrote her into a book to kill her off in some horrific, gruesome way.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” he attempted. The cigarette had burned down without him remembering to smoke it; he dropped it, stubbed it out with his wingtip loafer.

“Goddamn it. We’re going to have to think of some way to spin this. Maybe we can pay that minimum-wage college kid off, say it was a publicity campaign for your next book. You can, I don’t know, write something about a writer dealing with substance use, only instead of Alcoholics Anonymous, throw in some clowns.”

“Sure, Susan. We’ll talk about this later- I’ve got those edits.” He felt very strongly that he did not, in fact, want to write a book about some clowns. Zero clowns seemed like a perfectly good maximum amount of clowns to have in anything, ever.

“Aww, jeez. You know, it’s days like this I wish I’d gone into social work..” She gave this speech all the time, and she never meant it.

“Absolutely, Susan. Love you too.” He could breathe a little easier when he ended the call. Maybe it was just that the smoke had trailed out.

On the train, heading back to where he lived with Audra, he watched the video. Susan had been right. It really didn’t make him look good. How would he tell this story to someone else?

So there’s this writer. He’s at a convention- and holy hell, does he hate conventions. He’s tired, it’s been a long day, he’s been on a panel, and now he’s signing books for kids in cosplay, not that he knows who any of the costumes are supposed to be. He’s just finished signing a book. He’s handed it to some teenager, waved them on their way- and then he looks up and he-

One of the maxims he shared most to would-be horror writers was that a character’s actions should always be believable. Make up whatever monsters you wanted, but tell the truth about what people did and why they did it, or everything would just fall flat.

There’s this writer. He’s never been in a bar fight, never even thrown a punch. One day, this college student in a beat-up Halloween costume walks up to him, and he goes beserk. Vaults over the table, drags this kid by the collar, shoves him into a display of vintage books. The whole display collapses on this kid, and still the writer isn’t happy. He leaps on this harmless young person. Hits him in the head over and over. Whatever he’s screaming, it’s not even words. And his face- he’s chalk white, beads of sweat running down his forehead like raindrops… raindrops on a window on a rainy day.

It was nonsensical.

“Bullshit plot, paper-thin characters,” Bill muttered to himself. If a student handed him a story like that, he’d have marked it all over with red pen. Good description, sense of action throughout, but the plot needs to make sense. Foreshadow your twists.

(Rain, rain, go away.)

Maybe there had been something in his past that he didn’t remember. Some drunken night in college. An incident at the county fair when he was five or something where, he didn’t know, a cicada had flown into his cotton candy and a clown happened to be there as he took a bite. People never did shit for no reason. No matter how strange a character’s actions, there always had to be a motive… and, well, wasn’t that true of real people as well?

Even if he didn’t get along with his parents, even if they’d never gotten along, he could handle having lunch with them- if only to solve this mystery. Surely they’d remember whatever strange incident had lain the track for his crash.


	3. #1000VoicesTour

Hey, so: as you’ve all been complaining about on my TL, the #TozierClownToss video from Richard Tozier’s #1000VoicesTour show was hella blurry. Blobs in a blob duking it out. Well, I was in the front row with a press pass, and I’m going to tell you all exactly what went down. (1/?)

It’s- I think- the third or fourth show of his tour. Tozier’s been booking local talent as opening acts. Tonight, it’s this guy whose stage name is Puffles the Clown Wizard. Balloon animals, self-deprecating jokes, reading minds, the works. (2/?)

At one point, Puffles “manifests balloons out of the Party Dimension” and makes them fly all around the theatre before whisking themselves offstage. All these colorful balloons wheeling around like a flock of birds, people applauding like crazy, it’s aesthetic as Fuck. (3/?)

Balloons go backstage, he waits for the applause to die down. Moves onto his next joke. Something about the wild AF reactions he gets when telling Grindr dates he’s a professional clown.

That’s when Tozier staggers onto the stage, holding a single red balloon. (4/?)

The look on his face. That’s something none of the videos, even the one Buzzfeed posted, have managed to capture. Furious? Lethal? Terrified? I guess it reminded me of how kids are- the way everything they’re feeling shows. Ever seen a little kid try not to look angry? They just don’t bother trying. (5/?)

He launches himself at Puffles, who’s frozen in fear. They go tumbling off the stage like pro wrestlers taking it out of the ring. Puffle’s confused as fuck, but trying to defend himself. Tozier squeezes the balloon until it pops and tries to slam it down this poor guy’s throat, screaming the whole time. (6/?)

At first I thought he was just yelling random noises. The video sounds like that too, due to shit audio quality. Swear to god, tho, those were words. “You can’t have him… leave him alone… don’t you dare touch him, fuck off!” Listen to it again if you don’t believe me. (7/?)

Tbh what freaked me out the most is the way he was sobbing. I didn’t even know a grown ass dude could cry like that. Especially not while beating someone up. (8/?)

The part that wasn’t in the video: his manager or something swoops in to drag him away from a v concussed Puffle, someone else (stage tech?) takes the mic, explains that the show is going to be canceled, everyone’s getting a full refund. (9/11)

Manager gets Tozier to sit on the edge of the stage. Someone gets a blanket from the green room and puts it over his shoulders, but he doesn’t notice. He’s just staring into space. & tbh it reminded me of a scared little kid. (10/11)

when they herded him off stage? I don’t think he even knew where he was, or that he was seeing anything going on around him. & that part freaked me out the most. (11/11.)

UPDATE: I’ve reached out for comment from Richard Tozier’s manager & Richard himself. And uhh? Turns out no one knows where he is. He said he was okay to drive himself home after the show, and deadass no one’s seen him since.

So I guess… if you see a confused guy with glasses punching magicians in yr area, let someone know? #WhereIsRichie #1000VoicesTour


	4. Local Architect Goes TF Off

BELOVED LOCAL ARCHITECT SUFFERS MYSTERIOUS MENTAL BREAKDOWN AT COMMUNITY CENTER OPENING

Ben Hanscom is, without a doubt, one of the greatest living modern architects. His work has graced London, Paris, Chicago- and now, Rochester, NY.

In terms of child poverty in cities, Rochester ranks third in the nation. The mission of the Rochester Community Center is to provide vulnerable low-income children with a safe place to spend time with friends, pursue subsidized extracurricular activities, and receive homework help. Hanscom, who happened to be passing through Rochester when the project was announced, offered to design the building for what town council members have said was only a “miniscule fraction” of his usual rate. He also attended the center’s opening ceremony earlier this week.

The first several hours of the opening ceremony progressed normally, with Hanscom chatting with townspeople, posing for pictures with fans of his work while local children attended free activities that showcased the center’s offerings. For younger children, there was a clown doing magic tricks.

In the viral video “Let’s Get This Clown,” the inciting incident for Hancsom’s break appears to be nine-year-old Rochester resident Amy “Ginger” Sullivan walking towards Mr. Bigfeetsies to receive a red balloon. Ginger, whose nickname stems from both her red hair and her lifelong love of classic movies, was startled but unharmed.

“I don’t think Mr. Hanscom meant anything bad,” Sullivan explained, clutching the balloon flower she’d received as a replacement for her original gift, which Hanscom had torn to shreds. “He reminded me of how my dad looked when I broke my arm on the trampoline. Scared and mad, yeah, but only because he really wanted to help.”

As shown in the viral video, Hanscom rushed towards the clown, putting himself between the performer and the young girl, before trying to strangle his inexplicable nemesis with a necktie.Although the video’s audio quality is imperfect, witnesses have said that he shouted, “not one more,” and “back to the sewers, you decrepit bitch.”

Afterwards, Hanscom seemed to have no memory of the incident. Even when showed video footage, he seemed completely disoriented, although he did apologize sincerely and offer to compensate the victim for his injuries before getting on his motorcycle and driving away.

The victim of the attack identified himself as Alex Williamson, a lifelong Rochester resident. Williamson, 23, is in his second year of working with Clowning Around Productions, a company that provides costumed entertainment for parties and events. In addition to his clown persona, Mr. Bigfeetsies, Williamson also portrays Peg-Leg the Pirate and Sir Valiant the Knight.

“I only took this job to save up for studying performance art in grad school, you know?” a distraught Williamson told reporters. “There aren’t many jobs where having a B.F.A. in physical theatre and a certification in puppetry works in your favor in the recruiting process. Clowning Around Productions pays a good couple dollars per hour above minimum wage, and they’re really great about scheduling if I need to block out days due to rehearsals or something. I expected the worst thing I’d have to deal with was a kid eating too much cake and puking on my clown shoes, not having to, I don’t know, fear for my life.” Before getting in the ambulance, Williamson made sure everyone present knew that, medical clearance pending, he would be playing Puck in a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the late summer Shakespeare Festival of Upstate New York.


	5. Myra Monologues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> honestly i just wanna be like "tw: myra kaspbrak"

Nancy, darling. What is it you mentioned the kids are saying lately? ‘I can’t even?’ Well, I don’t know what it is they can’t even do- I blame vaccines- but right now, I can’t even cope with what happened today at the corporate party. I don’t want to even listen to any of the messages left on the home phone, or check my email inbox. Eddie’s boss mentioned the contract they had with Send In The Clowns Entertainment prevents performers from suing, but that doesn’t mean our reputation in the neighborhood is going to hold up! I’m so distressed. I’ve never been this distraught in my entire life. I genuinely can’t stop crying.

Sorry, what? You’re asking me to tell you what happened to make me so upset? Oh, yes, of course. I’d completely gotten ahead of myself. Well, there was a corporate party celebrating the founding anniversary. Of course a lot of people had brought their kids, so they hired someone from Send In The Clowns Entertainment. Red nose, big shoes, your typical balloon animal joke-teller. Everything was perfectly normal, and I had just finished putting together a plate for Eddie from the salad bar when he saw the clown.

The look on Eddie’s face terrified me. He was practically blazing with anger- I was so scared he was going to hit me right in front of everyone! Before I could say anything, he shoved his plate into my hands. “Hold this for a moment,” he said, and walked away. He stormed towards the clown, picking up his pace as he went. “Hey, motherfucker!” he yelled. Of course the clown didn’t have any idea that he was being addressed in particular. Even I didn’t know who he was addressing. But when Eddie picked up an executive chair and swung it right at the hapless performer with an inhuman scream? Well, I think everyone was just too stunned to react.

“Don’t even think about it.” WHACK! “I’m onto you.” WHACK! “I won’t let you hurt him- kill this motherfucking clown-“ and that was when some other employees from the accounting division FINALLY swooped in to pull him away. He tried to break free of their hold, so that was when I hurried to his side to calm him down.

“Eddie, darling,” I told him, “everything’s fine. Everything’s going to be perfectly all right.”

The look he gave me… sheer unthinking fury, as if he’d just found out I’d done something terrible. Even though it was only there for an instant, it made all my blood run cold. Then he dropped the pieces of the chair and stood up slowly.

“Sorry,” he said, “I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry. Fuck.” And then he fainted. Luckily he didn’t get a concussion, or the day would have gone from bad to worse.

What really puzzles me- on the way home, I happened to glance into the passenger seat, you know, to see how he was holding up. And he was on his phone. He was googling that one comedian. The one who wrote for SNL, Rick Tossy or whatever his name actually is. No, I’m certainly not a fan of modern comedy. They’re all so vulgar, and none of them respect the church or the government or family life. I only know about what’s-his-name because he went missing a few days ago, and it happened to be on the news while I was doing my ironing. They’ll find him dead in a gutter somewhere, you mark my words.

Eddie wasn’t looking at any of the news articles. Just scrolling through pictures of him on the Google that lets you do the picture search. Page after page, his brow furrowed, as if there was something he genuinely expected to find. My poor husband… he’s always been physically delicate, but it never occurred to me that he might have an underlying mental delicacy as well. He just looked so lost.

It reminded me of how he scoops all his vitamins out of the pill organizer every morning, so carefully. The way that, before he takes them, he goes through them one by one. Just to make sure they’re all still there.


	6. in which stanley does not go viral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> implied stan's canon fate

Out of all the Losers who’ve left Derry, Stan alone doesn’t have a viral video.

He is watching a local parade with his wife when a clown capers past.

“Excuse me,” Stan says, removing his suddenly-sweaty hand from hers. “I don’t feel well. I think- I think perhaps maybe I ought to go home.”

He walks the three blocks to his split-level single family house with a nice screened porch and a nice green lawn. He keeps glancing behind him to make sure he hasn’t been followed.

Stan locks the bathroom door behind him and throws up. Afterwards, he spends a long time staring into the empty bathtub, swaying back and forth from foot to foot.

Then he turns on the taps.


	7. mike is too old for this (feat. depression)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suicide attempt mention tw, microaggressions tw

Mike stared at his computer screen. He took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and put them back on. No such luck. It’s wasn’t a hallucination.

“1000 Voices Tour Canceled,” and “Local Architect Attacks Entertainment,” and “Writer Causes Chaos at Convention,” with a link to a Buzzfeed article in Twitter Moments. That also had a video called “Let’s Get This Clown” which features a famous fashion designer threatening to push a photo shoot participant out of a window.

Said participant was- you guessed it- a clown.

Stan didn’t have a viral video, but he guessed that it was because Stan was the only one of his friends with a shred of impulse control, or something even vaguely resembling it.

He knew that people forgot when they left Derry. His friends had stopped calling him. None of them ever mentioned Derry in their interviews. Not when Bill wrote a novel about serial killers preying on children in a small town, not when Beverly made a tattered, ethereal dress that looked like it had been through an explosion and then left in water for years for a social media celebrity to wear on Halloween. Richie had a recurring joke about not remembering his childhood and everyone thought it was just that, a joke.

Things had been quiet in Derry. Sure, some children had died, but that was all directly as a result of their parents refusing to proceed with a normal vaccination schedule- or at least that was his best guess. There was nothing mysterious, nothing violent. They’d all died in the hospital with witnesses at every step. The other night, a man had drowned in three feet of water in the Derry Canal, but it appeared that there were human teenage boys responsible for the crime in a completely ordinary way. If IT was still alive- and, fuck, he prayed it wasn’t- they had at least until the end of the summer before IT woke. 

On his lunch break, he left a BE BACK SOON sign on his desk, directing any patrons with nonfiction questions to ask one of the children’s librarians, who had different lunch hours. Maybe he’d just saunter down to the Derry Town House. He’d walk over casually, just in case anyone was watching him. Leave a couple messages, just in case… because if they’d come to Derry ahead of schedule, that meant he had more time to make his encouraging lies sound utterly true.

Hey there,

My name is Mike Hanlon. I’m not sure how much you remember about me, but we used to be close friends as children. I have a hunch that you might be in Derry due to a recent incident with clowns, or seeing someone else have a clown incident that sparked a memory in you. Here’s the thing: I remember a lot about our childhoods. Therefore, I know exactly what that was all about. If you want to find out more, come to the Jade of the Orient at 6 PM tonight.

-M. H.

“Mike Hanlon,” Richie muttered. He wrinkled his nose and adjusted his glasses. “Mike Hanlon… where have I heard that name before?” He wasn’t entirely sure. Still, if this guy was a crazy fan, at least he hadn’t blown Richie’s cover here in Derry.

Was Eddie scared of clowns? Sure, apparently. But also, he couldn’t consciously think of anything scarier than his wife, who surely wouldn’t think to look for him outside the hotel. He decided to research the Jade’s menu to see if they had food without MSG.

Hanlon. Mike Hanlon. Ben Googled him. Apparently he was a local librarian who’d published some books about the history of the town. I used to be really interested in history as a kid. I was so unpopular, I spent almost all the time at the library. Maybe that’s how we know each other. (But how did this guy know that Ben was scared of clowns?)

Hanlon. A good name, Bill thought. He’d have to use it in a story sometime. Maybe a mysterious lone hero, like a gunslinger in the Wild West. What first names went well with Hanlon? George Hanlon… Georgie Hanlon? He’d never really thought about that name before, but now it was rattling around in his head…

This is a terrible idea, Stan thought. “This is a terrible idea,” he told his pale, harrowed reflection out loud. He’d tried to kill himself so he wouldn’t have to go back to Derry. Razor blades hurt, and he could barely bring himself to break the skin; he’d had his arm stitched up and bandaged, told his wife and the doctors he’d tripped while cooking. A Xanax-Wine combo he assumed would make him permanently comatose? All that had gotten him was a trip to the emergency room and a lecture on reading his medication bottles more carefully. No one brought up suicide- and, shamefully, he didn’t want to be the one to start the conversation. Not even with his loving wife.

He couldn’t even kill himself without fucking it up. How was he supposed to protect his friends?

Stan prodded his reflection. “This is an unbelievably stupid idea. You should go jump in the canal.” Instead, though, he just finished brushing his teeth. Then he put on a suit jacket (it was too warm to dress so formally, but he still had the bandages and stitches) and tied his tie with shaking hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see it's okay!!! i promise!!!


End file.
